


domestic!lucifer

by whatwouldluciferdo



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Laundry, Shaving, domestic!lucifer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwouldluciferdo/pseuds/whatwouldluciferdo
Summary: a collection of domestic!lucifer one-shots while we wait for it to become a reality. | #2 deckerstar morning after. lucifer cuts himself because he's never been vulnerable while doing it.





	1. laundry

**Author's Note:**

> i would literally rather watch my otp do laundry together than suffer through some inorganic, pointless, dramatic bullshit.
> 
> ^ first prompt borrowed with love & thanks from [this](https://whatwouldluciferdo.tumblr.com/post/181595055027/carolinesalvatore-i-would-literally-rather-watch) tumblr post. credit to the original poster.

“I really need to get you a maid service,” he comments lazily.

He’s lying on her sofa, socked feet perched atop her coffee table, a movie she doesn’t recognize playing in the background. He’s obviously… bored. Has been annoying her all morning as she’s been cleaning up chip crumbs and hairclips from the sleepover Trixie hosted last night. Following her from room to room with wandering hands until he’d finally given up and plopped himself down in front of the TV.

Chloe kicks his legs off the table as she scoots passed him, heading to the kitchen for a damp cloth. “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning my own home.”

“Well then, won’t you at least consider putting on a French maid’s outfit while you clean?” he calls from the other room. “Much more entertaining than this movie.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s not the first time he’s suggested that one.

(And she’s sure it won’t be the last.)

But she’s not being drawn back into that discussion. “You know, if you aren’t going to help, you could at least keep the commentary to a minimum.”

She peers over her right shoulder, watches him far too innocently mime locking his lips and tossing away the key.

Innocent – hah. She knows better than to use that word to describe Lucifer Morningstar.

* * *

 

After half an hour, she realizes he’s been quiet too long.

Chloe pauses in the kitchen, hands covered with dishwashing gloves and immersed in soapy water. She angles toward the living room – the TV is still flickering but he’s no longer on the sofa. She crooks her ear toward the staircase and tries to determine if he’s perhaps gone upstairs. She can’t hear any movement.

Perhaps he fell asleep? He stayed up with her late last night, waiting until she was sure Trixie’s friends had fallen asleep before following her to bed.

Stripping off the gloves, she lays them over the edge of the sink. She pokes her head in Trixie’s room – not there, just her daughter still asleep after the late night – before ascending the stairs. She checks her bedroom and bathroom first, then Maze’s, but doesn’t find him.

He didn’t leave, did he?

She moves back down the staircase slowly, hand drifting distantly along the railing. She hopes she didn’t hurt his feelings earlier; he wouldn’t be one to say anything if she did.

But then she spots his suit jacket folded carefully over the corner of her sofa. He must still be here.

She finally finds him in the laundry room, the sight halting her beneath the doorway. He’s bent over in front of her washing machine, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. Pulling out a tangle of wet clothes, he transfers them to her dryer, changes a few settings before starting the cycle. He’s bending down to scoop up the next pile of clothes off the floor when he notices her watching and pauses.

“Are you… doing my laundry?” she queries lightly. Chloe folds her arms across her chest and props one shoulder against the doorjamb.

“Well.” Lucifer lifts his shoulders just a little. “As you said – if you won’t let me pay someone for this, I may as well help you.”

She wants to be grateful but she can’t help remember the way he once tried to organize her case files. Knowing him, he’s sorted her clothes before washing them into _sexy clothes_ and _mom clothes_.

“Did you separate the lights from – ”

“The dark colors?” He bobs his head. “Of course.”

She pushes her lips together. “And what about – ”

“Your delicates?” He steps to the side of the room, lets her see the rack of delicates air-drying behind him. “Yes. They were quite fun. Handled with the utmost care.”

She can’t help the roll of her eyes, even as her heart swells at his thoughtfulness.

“And I must say,” he waggles an eyebrow in her direction, pinching the edges of one of her thongs to hold it up on display, “I’m quite partial to this little red number that I haven’t seen yet. Been holding back on me?”

She snatches it from his hand. “That was for Valentine’s Day,” she sighs. “Now you’ve ruined the surprise.”

But she’s not really mad at him. Chloe steps forward into his space, skates her arms around his waist and laces her fingers at the dip in his back. His muscles skitter beneath her touch and he leans forward, into her space now, dipping his head to capture her lips. The kiss is soft and slow, his mouth warm, makes her body feel loose.

A smile like sunshine curls the corners of her mouth upward without her permission and she hums against his lips. “Domesticity suits you.”

 


	2. shaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deckerstar morning after. lucifer cuts himself because he's never been vulnerable while doing it.

The lingering heat from the shower swirls across his skin like a delicate blanket. Lucifer wraps the bamboo bath towel low around his hips, makes a tuck on one side to hold it in place. His toes curl into the thick pile of her bathmat as he reaches for the hand towel. He lifts it toward the mirror, wipes the plush fabric across the glass to remove the steam that’s collected.

It was definitely a… _hot_ shower.

Chloe has left him alone now, patted herself dry and (despite his protests) moved out to her closet to dress. Probably for the best – they don’t really have time for a round three.

Lucifer eyes his appearance in the mirror. His stubble is getting a little long. Less five o’clock shadow and more homeless magician. He hasn’t been back to his penthouse in a few days; hasn’t had the opportunity to shave.

He also doesn’t plan on changing his current sleepover arrangements just yet.

He takes a step toward the doorway, pokes his head around the corner. She’s already halfway dressed – dark jeans and a khaki tee she’s pulling over a red, lacy bra he can’t _wait_ to strip off tonight.

“Any chance you have a men’s razor?” he queries.

She bobs her head, fingers scratching gently at his waist as she steps around him, back into the bathroom. She kneels in front of the bathroom cabinet and burrows through a few boxes.

“It’s not electric,” she half apologises as she hands the blades and shaving cream over to him. He waves off her concern but still quirks an eyebrow in her direction.

“Do I dare ask _why_ you have a spare men’s razor?”

Heat flushes across her cheeks, nothing to do with the humid bathroom air. “I may have… bought it for you.” She shrugs. “Just in case.”

His heart stutters at her confession. It’s been a long time since someone thought about him the way she does.

Lucifer drops a kiss to her forehead and lets her leave the room to continue getting ready. He plugs the sink, watches the warm water fill the basin. He opens her third drawer and tugs out a spare washcloth, dipping it into the water before draping it across his cheeks, sighing just a little as the heat opens his pores. He picks up the can of shaving cream and squirts a generous amount of foam onto his left hand, swaps it for the wash cloth along his cheek, small circles smoothing the cream over the ridge of his jawline and down his neck.

He dips the razor in the water and lifts it by his ear, barely gliding over his skin as he guides the blade down toward the point of his chin. He doesn’t want to take his beard off; just tidy it up. After a few final strokes on his right side, he rinses the razor in the sink before lifting it to his left cheek, bringing it downward again.

“Do you think you’ll be ready to leave in fifteen?” her voice carries from the bedroom.

Lucifer glances up at his hair, still wet and free of product. He grimaces. “Mayb – oh.”

His eyes shoot down toward his jawline, a bright red dot springing up through the white foam. One moment of distraction and he’s somehow cut himself shaving. The razor drops into the water with a quiet _plop_ and he slaps his hand against his jaw. A few dollops of cream slip off his face, falling haphazardly on his chest.

“Bloody hell – that _stings_ ,” he groans.

Chloe rounds the corner back into the bathroom with a roll of her eyes. “Well, don’t get more cream in it,” she scolds him.

He lifts his foam-covered fingers away from his face and scowls when another spot of blood appears. “What do I do?”

“What do you mean, _what do you do_?” She scoffs but picks up the wash cloth and hands it to him. “Wipe off the shaving cream and press some tissue to it.”

Almost petulantly, he follows her instructions. “A little less judgement please. This is your fault, after all.”

Her eyebrows shoot up at the accusation. “How is this _my_ fault? You’re the one that nicked himself.”

“And _you’re_ the one that makes me vulnerable.”

Chloe presses her lips into a thin line in realization. “You’ve never cut yourself shaving before.”

“Forget for a moment you’re dating the devil?” he teases.

She moves to stand behind him then, her chest pressed to his back. Her fingers skate around his stomach, sending a shiver of delight up his spine. On tiptoes, she presses her face into the crook of his neck, lips open and hot as she whispers against his skin.

“I’m glad that, even after millennia, there are still some firsts we get to share together.”

**Author's Note:**

> have a prompt you’d love filled? feel free to send it my way
> 
> kate x


End file.
